


Another Vacation

by Kiraly



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen, Post-Canon, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:00:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8428831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly
Summary: A year after the first foray into the Silent World, a second expedition has been approved. Time for the crew to meet up at the Øresund base to head out for another adventure.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elleth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleth/gifts).



> Hello, Trick-or-Treater! I thought you might enjoy this extra treat. Hope it brightens your day!

The train rolled to a stop, the screech of brakes rising over the shouts of conductors and the usual hubbub of the Øresund base. Sigrun bounced on her toes and elbowed the man beside her.

“Gotta love the sound of Dalahästen in the morning. Music to my ears!”

“Hmm.” Mikkel took a step to the side to put himself out of elbow range. “If that’s what Norwegians call music, remind me not to visit Dalsnes during a singing competition.” He kept his face stiff as always, but after a year’s acquaintance, Sigrun could judge his moods. He was as excited as she was, in his own way.

“Sure, Big Guy,” she said with a grin, “I’ll keep you safe from Norwegian singing if you help me avoid Danish joke contests. I’d be the only one laughing!”

“On the contrary, Sigrun. My humor has been know to leave people in stitches.”

“Ha! Too bad your stitches are a joke, too.” Sigrun moved closer so she could give him a friendly arm-punch. The stitch jokes never got old; she still had scars from the wounds he’d patched up on the last run. They might be the ugliest in her collection, but Mikkel’s terrible suturing skills had done the job—she still had two arms, all the better to punch him with.

Any further reply was lost as the train doors hissed open. Passengers streamed out, slinging bags over shoulders before proceeding down the stairs to the platform. Sigrun squinted against the light, searching for a familiar—

“There!”

—glint of light off golden hair. Even in the crowd of Swedes departing the train, she’d know that hair anywhere.

“EEEEYYYY-MIIIIIIIIL!”

The people standing closest to Sigrun winced, some of them covering their ears. One woman jumped so hard she dropped her bag. Mikkel only sighed. On the other end of the platform, Emil’s head jerked up and a smile lit his face.

“Sigrun! Mikkel!” A year ago, he would have turned tomato red at all the curious stares Sigrun’s shout had drawn, but now he was all enthusiasm. He pushed through the crowd, dragging a slim figure behind him like an unwilling shadow.

“Little Viking!” Sigrun turned his handshake into a hug, ruffling the famous hair for good measure. “And you brought Twig with you!”

Lalli dodged her friendly punch and glared. “Brought myself,” he muttered. His Swedish had improved. As for his social skills...well. He made as if to walk around Mikkel, and when the medic reached out to stop him, Lalli flicked his arm out and allowed Mikkel’s to shake his hand. His other hand rummaged in Mikkel’s satchel at the same time, so when Mikkel released him he came away with two cookies.

Sigrun laughed. “Odin’s beard, Twig, you’re turning into quite the little weasel!” This time Lalli wasn’t fast enough—she managed to clap him on the back as befitted a proper warrior. “And speaking of clever little Finns, where’s—”

“EEEEEEEE!!!!”

Sigrun whirled, scanning the crowd for the source of the noise. At first she couldn’t see anything. Then a pair of tall Swedes staggered as someone shoved between them and made a beeline for Sigrun.

“...EEEEEEEEE…”

“ _ There  _ she is!”

“...EEEEEoof!” Tuuri launched herself at Sigrun, who scooped her up and swung her around in a circle. 

“Short Stuff!” Sigrun stopped spinning, but kept her grip around Tuuri’s waist. She could feel the laughter all the way through their thick uniform coats.

“EEEEhehehe Sigrun! I missed you!”

“Aww, I missed you too, little fuzzy-head!” Sigrun rubbed her cheek against Tuuri’s short-cropped hair for emphasis. Tuuri giggled again.

Mikkel cleared his throat. “You might consider putting her down so others can greet her, Sigrun.”

Sigrun snorted and made no move to let go. “Trying to get put on the mutiny list before we even start? I’m the captain, I can carry her around all day if I want to!”

“I think he’s just jealous that you can’t pick  _ him  _ up,” Tuuri said, resting her head on Sigrun’s shoulder. “He wants a hug like this too.”

“Can’t I?” Sigrun set Tuuri on her feet—reluctantly, because it had been far too long since she’d had a squishy Finn hug—and turned to Mikkel. “I bet if I grab him by the legs…”

“Sigrun, that’s not—” Mikkel backed away. 

Sigrun followed him. “What, scared of a little affection? Come on, give us a hug, Madsen!”

“Of course not, I merely wish to say that it’s ill-advised to—”

“Ooh, I think he  _ is  _ scared! That’s it, we’re gonna hug it out, Viking style!”

“Sigrun, I beg you—”

The rest of the crew stifled laughter as Sigrun pursued Mikkel across the platform and towards the stairs, determined to catch him in an embrace. She was sure she  _ could  _ pick him up, even if it looked like he’d packed on a few kilos of muscle over the summer. She’d just backed him into a corner and stooped to grab his legs—she could hear Emil and Tuuri chanting “Pick him up! Pick him up!” somewhere behind her—when a new voice broke in.

“Aww...you started the fun without me!”

At least, she  _ thought  _ that was what he said. The Swedish came out with such a heavy Icelandic accent that it was hard to tell. Sigrun turned around just in time to see Tuuri tackle Reynir in a hug that nearly sent them both to the ground. When they’d regained their balance, Sigrun slung an arm around Reynir’s shoulder.

“Freckles! Don’t worry, you haven’t missed all the fun. There’s still plenty of time for you to play ‘hoist the medic’. Go on, try it!”

Reynir looked from Sigrun to Tuuri, lips moving as he translated Sigrun’s words. “I...don’t...what?”

Tuuri started to say something in Icelandic, and Reynir peered around Sigrun to where Mikkel leaned against the wall. “Uh...do I…?” More Icelandic, this time from Mikkel. He extracted Reynir from Sigrun’s grip and offered a handshake.

“Honestly, Sigrun, let him at least say hello before you start playing pranks on him.”

“Before  _ I  _ start—listen, which one of us convinced Braidy that eating vegetables would straighten his hair? Or that whistling keeps ghosts away? I couldn’t get him to stop for  _ weeks,  _ and he only knows one song!”

“Well, perhaps he learned some more at the Academy. And he can’t be worse than the singing Norwegians. Right, Reynir?” That part of the conversation had been in Danish. Reynir blinked.

“Uh...yes?” His face turned as red as his hair, but he laughed along with them. He looked different in the white uniform coat and black turtleneck: calmer, more confident. He certainly had more experience than when they’d hauled him out of a tuna crate last winter. Come to think of it, all of them did.

Sigrun allowed herself to admire her crew for a minute. To an outsider, they might still look like a ragtag group of fools with a death wish, but Sigrun saw something different. Before, they’d been individuals, thrown together with the hope that they’d work things out. Now, they were a team. She watched Lalli mutter something in Emil’s ear, and Emil laughed—from happiness, not embarrassment. Mikkel’s mouth twitched into that almost-smile as he made another remark in Icelandic, which caused Reynir to grin and Tuuri to roll her eyes. Tuuri, for her part, nudged Sigrun in the ribs with her elbow. “Are we going to stand around all day, or can we go find the tank?” No trace of last year’s nervousness, only excitement for the journey ahead. 

Well, she had a point. Reflection was all well and good, but those trolls wouldn’t kill themselves. Sigrun elbowed Tuuri back and ruffled her hair. “Right! Let’s go find our ride, everyone. Plenty of time to catch up on the gossip when we’re across the bridge. And, uh...let’s try not to break it this time, all right?”

Shoulder to shoulder, they set off for another round in the Silent World. 

 


End file.
